


Awake

by angelthefunone



Series: Crimson Snow [4]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: All the Kims are brothers, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Gen, Ghoul!BTS, Just some sweet wholesome content, Kim Seokjin | Jin-centric, Loss of Parent(s), Not the weird kind though, Other Tokyo Ghoul characters mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 08:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18220517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelthefunone/pseuds/angelthefunone
Summary: Seokjin misses his brothers, but ghouls never have time for a break.





	Awake

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this at almost 2am in the morning, right after I finished the fifth chapter of the main series, so I might've been a bit sleep-deprived and delirious when writing the second half of this chapter so bear with me, alright?
> 
> Speaking of which, I do recommend reading chapter 5 of the main series because the final section of this story alone takes place after the events of that chapter. Also to avoid spoilers and all.
> 
> And yeah, there's some angst in here for once. Like, some real angst. But also some good wholesome content in the end that'll pull your heartstrings, maybe.

Kim Seokjin missed his brothers.

He hated to admit it, but it’s true.

Countless nights were spent with him lying on his bed, eyes wide awake and staring at the ceiling above him, thoughts swimming in his head, spinning like a broken record and keeping him restless until dawn came and it was time for him to return to his daily routines. They were thoughts of his brothers—of Namjoon and of Taehyung—of untainted childhood memories, of holding hands and snuggling in the couch together. The three of them cocooned in the warmth their parents provided when it was cold and raining outside and nothing mattered but the family of five, together and whole.

But of course, life is never fair, even more so for ghouls; Seokjin woke up one morning at a god-forsaken hour, still on the couch sandwiching Taehyung in between Namjoon and himself, a baby-blue blanket draped over them despite all three being growing teenagers—they were waiting for their parents to return from their weekly hunt, but it was far past midnight and their parents had never been out _this_ late before, knowing the children would stay up with them if they did.

Seokjin tucked his brothers in—well, more like _told_ them to go to bed, then stayed up a little longer to make sure they fell asleep before he did. At about seven, he woke up again while his brothers remained asleep, headed downstairs to see no signs of their parents ever returning last night, a bit concerned, but went ahead to prepare breakfast for his two brothers before the three would head off to school, turning on the TV for the sake of background noise.

Minutes later, he was biting down on his lip, trying to muffle his own cries at the mere sight of the two faces he wanted to wake up to this morning— _just not like this_ —instead displayed above the headline: ‘Ghoul-hunters Take Down Two More: How Many Still Out There?’ just so he wouldn’t wake Namjoon nor Taehyung up from their oh-so-peaceful sleep.

 _Ignorance is bliss_ , he thought.

When his two brothers woke up a few hours later, Seokjin was in the midst of packing up whatever belongings they had, as he told them they had to move again—that their parents ran into trouble with the ghoul-hunters, but were alive and well, having to keep a low profile for some time. That the three of them were on their own for some time until the five of them could reunite once more elsewhere, but not _here_ . Taehyung was thirteen then— _too young,_ Seokjin thought—but Namjoon, fourteen, was a smart boy. The middle sibling could tell from the look on his brother’s face that something was wrong, that his brother was lying, but didn’t inquire further about it.

As Taehyung raced back upstairs to gather his personal belongings, Seokjin turned around and found Namjoon staring up at him with glistening eyes. Within a single heartbeat, he pulled his brother into his embrace, held him tight as close as possible and allowed himself to weep in silence for a second time.

Seokjin made sure there was no remaining trace of them ever having lived there for the past two years, before casting one last time at the bare interiors of the home that had _just_ started growing onto him, then closing the front door shut one last time.

He made a vow to himself that morning: he would do whatever it takes to protect his two brothers. After all, they were all he had left.

He would protect them, even if it cost him his own life.

That was five years ago. Three years later, he broke his vow.

He could never forget the hard look in Namjoon’s eyes as the two of them spat words with so much hatred, a sense of hatred that neither of them had ever shown towards anybody, much less towards each other. He could never forget the tears running down Taehyung’s face as he pleaded for his two brothers to stop, but Seokjin’s red ears were deaf to his little brother’s cries. It wasn’t until he watched his two brothers march off towards the distance without him, without even a single look back from Namjoon, when the pang of regret struck Seokjin’s heart just a second too late, and all he could do was stare at their silhouettes until the two disappeared into the sea of humans, out of sight but never out of mind.

He could’ve sworn Taehyung shot one last glance over his shoulder, at Seokjin—one last glance of pain from his unwillingness to leave their brother behind—before he quickened his pace and caught up to Namjoon, and never turned back again.

Seokjin was too shaken from the argument to feel the full force of what just transpired before him. And it wasn’t until duskfall, when he found himself wandering the streets of Tokyo without destination, aimless and mindless, that he realized that he was alone.

For the first time in the sixteen years that he’d lived thus far, he was alone.

And he was lost, in a strange giant metropolitan he’d been in for just a little less than twenty-four hours, with no contact, no food, no shelter. Nothing.

He had nothing.

He missed his brothers then, but his selfish ego prevented him from being desperate enough to seek them out. _They’ll be fine_ , he thought. After all, a ghoul organization as big and prominent as Aogiri Tree would take care of its members, even new recruits, right?

For a brief moment of weakness, when his stomach started to grumble and complaining about the emptiness within it, he thought that perhaps he should attempt to seek them out. Aogiri Tree had agents all over town, right? Maybe he could reunite with his brothers again. Maybe what happened earlier that morning would be forgotten. The hatchet would be buried in the dirt. All would be well.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like this—without a home and without much food, just scavenging for scraps and leftovers from other ghouls—but never in a million years would he ever expect himself to be considered the more fortunate one of the two parties.

He wound up at an unassuming coffee shop somehow—coffee was the few human foods that ghouls could consume, and though it did nothing to dispel his gnawing hunger, it would alleviate it just the slightest bit, and he’d heard from the locals that this particular establishment had the best coffee in all of Tokyo, thus he was intrigued. He had just enough cash for a single cup of coffee; he walked up the front stairs, opened the door that rang a bell as it moved, alerting others inside the room of his unexpected presence.

Maybe it was his clothes, or general hygiene—there wasn’t much he could do about that, after all—or maybe some of them knew his secret, but a few seconds later and the rest of the room pretended as though he didn’t exist, leaving him to his own devices as he walked up to one of the tables beside the windows and sat down.

A waitress approached him—young, short blueish-purple hair, unappealing scent—and asked for his order. He made the request of his single humble cup of coffee, and he’d thought it was his humble request indeed that stunned her for just a second too long, before she jotted something down on her notepad and stalked back to behind the counter, into what he assumed was the back room.

She came back about fifteen minutes later, but was absent of the cup of coffee he’d ordered. Instead, she told him—with some exasperation—that the manager wanted to see him, of all people, and was waiting for them upstairs. Seokjin was at a loss of words but complied anyway—this girl, who seemed to be his age or perhaps younger, seemed terrifying enough on  her own, human or not, so he was not one to resist when she guided him through the ‘Employees-Only’ door and up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, before leaving him in what looked to be a guest waiting room.

She left, then came back, with not just his steaming cup of coffee, but something else on top of the wooden tray in her hands—something she said was ‘on the house.’

A single serving plate of fresh human meat.

He sat there, staring at the clean cut, still marinated in blood, then back at the waitress. It wasn’t until she rolled her eyes and leave the room that he moved, indulging himself for the first good meal he’s had in quite some time.

He finished his coffee last.

The manager came in right after he set the cup back down on its little plate. He was an old man, well in his sixties, bearing white hair slicked back over his scalp, but still standing tall and proud despite donning a typical waiter’s uniform. His eyes almost looked like they were glued shut, but there was a small, welcoming smile across his wrinkled lips. He introduced himself as Yoshimura, the manager of Anteiku.

And, just like Seokjin, he was a ghoul.

And Anteiku, the humble little café Seokjin had stumbled across less than half an hour ago, was in fact the hub of the ghouls of the 20th ward. It welcomed both human and ghoul customers, bearing a hidden menu for the latter population that consisted of what the waitress from earlier had claimed was ‘on the house.’

“Then… is this place is a trap or something? For humans, so us ghouls can eat?” Seokjin had then questioned with great caution, swallowing hard as he looked down at the blood-stained plate in front of him, fork and knife placed in a neat position on top of it despite the rather gruesome overall appearance the plate had been degraded to now. Though it could also be ketchup for all unassuming humans knew.

“No.” The manager spoke in a calm voice, shaking his head once. “We do not kill our customers, but rather serve them with great pride. We obtain the, um, _secret_ ingredients from the roads up along the mountain not too far from here—unfortunate souls whose lives ended either on their own terms, or from terrible accidents. They’re all dead before we even get to them. None of us have their blood on our hands.”

Knowing this, Seokjin could breathe out a sigh of relief, expelling the air he didn’t realize he’d been holding since the manager began speaking. He never liked having to eat the same people he mingled with, the people from the same neighborhood he lived in, even much less people he recognized and had actual conversations with, and all just so he could continue to live on. It was somewhat comforting to know that the meal he’d just had mere minutes ago didn’t come from a tortured soul, at least.

After a beat of thought, Yoshimura looked at Seokjin with a newfound curious light.“You… you are not from here, are you?”

Seokjin shook his head. “I arrived from South Korea a little while ago… along with my brothers.”

He stilled at the mention of his brothers, a pang of hurt shooting through his chest. His eyes casted themselves downwards, and the manager seemed to take immediate notice of this.

“Brothers, hmm?” Yoshimura nodded. “If you don’t mind, may I ask, where are they now? Why are you here alone?”

The further the conversation wandered off to, the more mixed feelings of guilt and regret began to build in Seokjin’s heart. Something inside him made him trust this old man, however, so he told Yoshimura everything, from the very beginning when his parents were murdered, up until he and his brothers ended up here, in the middle of Tokyo, a thousand kilometers away from his old home back in Seoul. And then, of course, their argument.

“Aogiri Tree, is it?”

A different light crossed the old manager’s face now, the wrinkles on his forehead and below his eyes forming more visible folds for a brief moment before his expression returned to a neutral one, with his eyes still closed and a small smile across his thin lips.

“I understand why your brothers chose to leave,” Yoshimura continued, his gaze, once focused on Seokjin, had turned distant. As though he was looking past the Korean ghoul and off to a blank distance somewhere. “It is not my story to tell, but it is not too different than yours: the waitress who brought you your meal earlier? She had a younger brother once who, for reasons similar to your own siblings, wished to become stronger, too. And so he joined Aogiri Tree.”

“Where is he now?” Seokjin couldn’t resist asking, but a forlorn look darkened the manager’s face.

“I do not know of his whereabouts,” the old man replied. “But I believe he is still with them. His sister still misses him, every day.” Then, after a short pause, Yoshimura sighed and added, “I still do, as well.”

Then, after some few minutes—or perhaps even hours, Seokjin couldn’t tell—of talking and chatting, Yoshimura offered him something that he just couldn’t refuse: a job, there at Anteiku, paid with some wage, tips from customers as well as residence in the upper floor of the building, where the purple-haired waitress and now co-worker, whose name he learned was Kirishima Touka, had also been living since the loss of her own parents a number of years ago.

Life was nice at Anteiku, much nicer than he thought it’d be if someone were to ask him where he’d be right now the first time he got to Tokyo. His job as a waiter was simple enough as it was, then he was promoted to barista when the manager taught him how to brew the specialty coffee Anteiku was so famous for. His co-workers, all ghouls, were great individuals on their own, and he couldn’t ask for greater friends.

During break hours, however, he’d conduct some experiments of his own: cooking. It was something he inherited from his mother, who worked at a soup kitchen before being exposed as a ghoul and put to death. While ghouls couldn’t consume human food, being born lacking the taste palette to regard it as anything but a disgusting bile, his mother had trained herself enough that she could indeed taste them to some sense, while relying the rest on recipes and feeling—how much sugar is enough to make it bearable, how much salt wouldn’t make a person’s tongue shrivel up on itself. Of course, she had a human friend who knew of her true nature whom she used as a human guinea pig when it came to her cooking, but she gained enough of her own knowledge to pass it on to Seokjin, whom she would take with her to the kitchen sometimes and helped her out in more recent days.

And Seokjin could never forget the enjoyment in her customers’ eyes upon tasting her food, and the look of fulfilment in his own mother’s eyes for something as simple as making and serving food for them.

After the coffee shop closed for the night, he bid his goodnights to his co-workers—his friends—and retreated back to the room he rented for the time being, but instead of sulking in his room, he’d spend hours in his personal kitchen, experimenting with his cooking. And for a while, no one else knew about his side activities… until the one time he burnt his stew on accident and triggered the fire alarm, forcing all of the building’s inhabitants at the time—it was eleven at night—to evacuate the building.

Yoshimura gave him a questioning glance but still seemed kind about it. Touka looked like she was going to skewer him alive.

So he had no choice but to reveal his side activities to the manager, who almost looked surprised and pleased at the same time upon hearing it.

While most cooks—the human ones, at least—relied on their taste buds to judge the flavor of their cooking, ghouls couldn’t—not in their current biological state. So, as far as Seokjin could remember, Mrs. Kim had a dear friend of hers—a _human_ one, at that—be some sort of experimental guinea pig instead. A human teacher taught her the simple techniques, but she had quite a few recipes that she invented herself through such ‘experiments.’ She’d write them down in a small pocket-sized book which Seokjin managed to salvage from their old home, down to the exact measurements as guidelines that anyone could follow to make the perfect dishes, even without having to taste them in the first place.

Aside from that, he inherited his mother’s basic knack for cooking, and after a while, he made food even without taking exact measurements, and had his childhood friends—also human,  but unaware that he was a ghoul—taste the food he made that came up with positive results.

Seokjin couldn’t help but be proud of himself at that time—how could he not? He could do what most ghouls couldn’t, what humans thought he couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to do in a million years.

And that skill he developed over years proved to be of great use to him now, too—there are people who would suspect ghouls to be working at a coffee shop, which serves the one human-made beverage that ghouls could drink, but no one—and he meant _no one_ —would suspect a ghoul to be working at a restaurant.

Much less own it, and even much less _cooking_ for it.

A few months after working at the coffee shop, Seokjin decided to take his own separate path from the rest of the staff of Anteiku—he wanted to make use of the skills he was so proud of but the coffee shop wouldn’t allow for it to happen since the most he could do was bake brownies and red velvet cakes to be served to customers. He couldn’t serve ramen or gyudon, nor kimchi and japchae from his homeland to customers at a _coffee shop_.

So, he got himself a place, purchased with money that he earned and saved, transformed the first floor into his own dream restaurant while the second floor served as his new home, and it wasn’t too far from Anteiku so he could still visit his former co-workers every now and then. He had a soft opening and everything and the staff visited and celebrated and congratulated him, and things had been going well for him ever since.

Of course, there have been ghoul investigators that visited his restaurant before—they checked every single nook and cranny in Tokyo these days, it seemed—and some of them have even become his most faithful regular customers, especially during lunchtime. There had been instances where he noticed the doves sparing glances and squints at him on occasion during the first few visits, but so far, those glares of suspicion always disappeared as soon as he delivered their orders, their frowns gradually turned upside down.

Seokjin could just imagine what went on in their heads: There was no way a ghoul could cook food _this_ delicious, not without tasting it. But sometimes, one just had to have a penchant for cooking—a gift, as he called it, if he wasn’t feeling humble and was proud of the food he made with his own two hands—and the passion for it, just as his mother used to have.

It was after the others had gone back to their homes to retire for the night, and Yoshimura lingered and told Kirishima to head back to the coffee shop ahead of him, when the old man approached Seokjin and asked if he could have an earnest talk with him.

“As big as this city is, word travels fast, especially among us ghouls,” the old man started after Seokjin invited him to sit down at one of the tables. “People have started to hear about our establishment. It draws in more people who need our help, yes, but it also attracts the other sort of crowd—the less benevolent ones.”

“You’re more than capable of handling other ghouls, Yoshimura-san,” Seokjin remarked. His former co-workers, Koma Enji and Irimi Kaya, once told him of their employer’s past—from what they’ve been told themselves, anyway—but also how it tied to their own shared past. How Yoshimura was once known as the SSS-rated ghoul, Kuzen.

“It’s not other ghouls that I’m worried about,” the older man added then, breathing out a despondent sigh. “The CCG will pick up on this, sooner or later. They’ve been coming to the shop more often than normal, and I don’t believe it is the coffee they’ll be after.”

“But nothing much ever happens here. There haven’t been as many murders here compared to the other wards.”

“And therefore, it’s just a matter of time before the doves start suspecting us.” Another sigh. “I… know what I’m asking of you seems like a burden, and it will put you in the crosshairs just as much as we are…”

“Well, what is it that you’re asking of me, Yoshimura-san?”

“Help.” A beat of pause. “We can brew coffee, but you can cook. It’s rare to see one of us who can do what you do.”

Seokjin’s former employer often spoke in either cryptic riddles, as Seokjin himself often thought, or stating the obvious with some greater or hidden meaning behind those words, if not both. It took Seokjin some time to pick it up, and even now, it took him a few good seconds to realize what was it the exact thing that the coffee shop manager asked of him.

“You want to outsource the meat distribution to me?” Seokjin asked slowly and carefully.

“Not all of it,” said Yoshimura with some haste, more than his usual slower speech. “Just however much you need to be supplied with for you to cook and serve. We’ll still be handling most of it. But it will keep us off the CCG’s radar for some time, however it means that you will eventually be put under their radar as well—”

“I’ll do it,” Seokjin replied without hesitance, with a firm nod and a straightened posture.

“Seokjin—”

“Of course, I’ll do it. I’d be happy to.”

“This restaurant is your dream, Seokjin,” the old man continued, somewhat perplexed and perhaps a little surprised at the younger ghoul’s rather immediate response. “I shouldn’t be asking you to do this—”

“But it means I can help people,” Seokjin was quick to say, still not backing down on his answer. “The way you helped me once. I know I’m not the only one out there who needs people like you, or people like Irimi and Koma and even Kirishima-chan.”

He then tilted his head down, to stare at his own hands folded on the surface of the table, keeping his posture straight as ever.

“I probably can’t repay you for what you did,” he added. “But, I’ve been thinking, maybe I can help someone else, you know?”

 _Like my brothers,_ Seokjin wanted to say, but kept it to himself in the end anyway. He hadn’t told Yoshimura anything beyond what he told him that first day, nor did he ever speak much about them around his co-workers, either. But some part of him had always imagined the wooden door, Anteiku’s main entrance, would open and Namjoon and Taehyung would be standing there in the doorway, and he’d run up to them and pull them into the biggest hug he could manage and promise not to let them go again.

Even now, when he’d be serving his own customers the food he cooked himself, or when it’s past opening hours and he was cleaning up the dining area before he’d go upstairs and get some well-deserved sleep, he’d be throwing glances at his own front door, waiting for his brothers to appear there, and he’d welcome them inside all the same.

Yoshimura stared back at him then, his usual stoic expression still bearing some hints of surprise before the corners of his lips stretched back just the slightest bit to form a fond smile. It soon broke into a warm chuckle as the old man stood up, picked up his trenchcoat and fedora hat, putting them both on as he headed towards the front door.

“I know you’ll do great here, Seokjin,” Yoshimura spoke with a certain semblance of pride and respect evident in his voice, something that made Seokjin’s own chest swell with the same emotion. “Helping ghouls or not, I’m proud of you. I’m sure your parents and your brothers would be as well, if and when they can see you now.”

Swallowing hard at the mere thought of it, Seokjin’s gaze drifted off a bit until Yoshimura placed a comforting hand on the younger ghoul’s shoulder, giving him a firm pat on the back.

“They’re still out there, somewhere, Seokjin,” the old man reassured with a softer voice. “Your brothers. You will see them again one day, so don’t lose hope now. And if I ever find them myself—”

“I’ll be right here.” Seokjin stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “And if I ever need your help, which I probably will—”

“Then you know where to find me,” Yoshimura added with a small nod, tipping his hat. He placed a single hand on the door handle but turned around for one last look. “I’ll be seeing you around, Seokjin. Get some rest—it’ll be a big day tomorrow.”

“I know it will.” He breathed out a sigh, not realizing how unstable his breathing had become. Anteiku was just down the block, which meant he could visit them anytime he wanted to, but somehow it felt like a goodbye. “Thank you, Yoshimura-san. For everything.”

Another soft, warm chuckle. He would miss seeing the old man, as well as his other former co-workers, on a day to day basis. He was on his own now.

“Anytime.” And with that, Yoshimura took his leave, and Seokjin stood there in the middle of his new restaurant, watching his mentor walk down the street and disappear into the darkness of the night.

 

* * *

 

Losing their parents took a toll on the three brothers in different ways. For Seokjin, it made him more protective of his brothers—or so he thought.

But for Namjoon, it filled him with anger. A desire to seek vengeance. But most of all, it filled him with self-hatred, which might have been what fuelled his ultimate decision back then more than anything else.

“But they promised we can be stronger, hyung,” Namjoon was arguing back. He was never like this, Seokjin thought. Namjoon was smart, and caring. He was a lover, not a fighter—their parents raised all three brothers as such. None of them ever cared about strength or power.

“Think about it, hyung. Look at what happened to our parents. They died because they weren’t strong enough. If they were, they would’ve taken down those hunters, not the other way around.”

“Joonie, that’s not true—”

“And look at us! We’re in _Japan_ , hyung! We ran away from home—from South Korea, from Seoul—because we’re not strong enough to fight back against the hunters. We’re cowards for coming here, seeking refugee like homeless beggars! And Aogiri Tree is offering us a _home_ —food, water, shelter, things that we won’t have otherwise because we don’t know anyone here, know nothing here—we can’t even speak Japanese! How are we going to survive here?”

“We’ll survive like we always do.” Seokjin was fuming then. His ears were burning, his jaw clenched and he was trying his darnest to keep himself under control. Ghouls losing control over their emotions were never a good thing. “We’ll find shelter. We’ll hunt. We’ll adapt. Just like we’ve always done—”

“And hide like cowards again?” Namjoon scoffed. “Cowards like our parents were?”

“Namjoon, don’t you dare—”

“I’m tired of hiding, hyung.” Namjoon had his eyes shut, heaving out his breaths with an instability that proved to Seokjin that he wasn’t thinking with a clear head right now, which was very uncharacteristic of his brother. “I just want to do something for once, instead of just sitting around and hoping we’ll be lucky enough to survive to see the morning. I’m tired of doing _nothing_.”

“But trusting people you’ve barely met a day ago? Namjoon, we’re not even sure if these people are legitimate! What do ghouls do to become stronger, huh? We fight, and if not, that means only one other thing—”

“Then I will fight.” The younger brother spoke with a sense of finality. His mind was made up, Seokjin thought and realized. “I’ll fight. If it means that I’ll be able to protect what’s left of our family, then I’ll fight.”

“Fighting doesn’t always solve the problem, Namjoon.”

“Nor does standing at the sidelines and doing nothing, hyung.” With a clenched jaw and curled fists, Namjoon turned his head away from his older brother. Seokjin could feel the pain in his chest even then. Behind him, Seokjin could hear Taehyung, back then just fifteen years old, pleading for them to stop fighting, his voice breaking with each word he cried out. “You promised that you would protect us, hyung. If you won’t do it, then I will.”

“I will protect you, but violence won’t be the way to do it.”

“It’s the _only_ way to do it. We’re _ghouls_ , hyung. And for us, it’s either kill or be killed.” Namjoon then turned to Taehyung, still hiding behind Seokjin’s back. He then nodded over his shoulder. “Taehyung-ah, c’mon.”

Seokjin drew his hand out beside him, palm facing behind and his arm shielding Taehyung. From what, he wasn’t even sure of. “Taehyung, don’t.”

“C’mon, Tae,” Namjoon urged, but made no move to drag their little brother along with him. He wanted Taehyung to come with him on his own volition. “It’s time we start learning how to protect ourselves.”

“Namjoon, Taehyung, you know better than this.”

“ _No_ , hyung,” Namjoon seethed through his teeth, taking an aggressive step forwards but not moving any further. Seokjin felt that being aggressive was all ghouls’ first nature, but the way Namjoon’s body shook indicated that he was holding himself back, more than anything else. Not to mention the pain etched across his face, showing that he was just as heartbroken at this as much as his brothers were. “ _You_ should know better than this.”

An elongated beat of silence. With each second that passed, the longer that Seokjin stared at his own brother, searching Namjoon’s face for any semblance of the brother he loved and still did even then, the more Seokjin could feel his heart break at the thought of losing his brothers. Yet, he knew then and there that he already did.

“C’mon, Taehyung. Let’s find those people before we lose them.”

Seokjin didn’t hold their youngest brother back any longer—couldn’t, because part of him expected Taehyung to stand his ground beside him, and perhaps even attempt to convince Namjoon to stay along with them.

But instead, he felt a part of himself crumble when he heard a single footstep coming from beside him. And then another, and then another, with great hesitation at first, but he knew that hesitation was being chipped away with each step forward, until Taehyung had made his way across the distance between his two older brothers and his hand found Namjoon’s, which clasped tightly around it the moment contact was made.

Turning his own eyes back to Namjoon’s face, Seokjin saw the determination in his brother’s eyes—his unwavering will to fight back against those who oppressed them.

“Goodbye, hyung.”

“Namjoon—”

But he’d already turned around and had started to walk away from Seokjin, hand still tight around Taehyung’s, moving further away from where they stood without even a second look back. Only Taehyung looked over their shoulders, his gaze still full of sorrow and longing and apologetic, a single tear escaping his eye and sliding down his cheek before he turned back around and followed Namjoon to whichever direction he was bringing them to.

“Namjoon.” A sob rose in Seokjin’s throat, the guilt and regret and realization of what just happened coming at him in waves that increased in magnitude, his shoulders deflating even more with each and every single one of those waves. “Taehyung.”

 _No, please_.

He closed his eyes.

_Come back._

 

* * *

 

Seokjin burst out of his covers in cold sweat, panting as he struggled to regain his staggering breath. His hand flew up to his forehead, holding his own heavy head for a moment before he began wiping off the sweat off his brows. He took in deep breaths, willing himself to calm down as he’d trained himself to do whenever he woke up like this, the way he did for all those countless nights he’d wake up due to the same recurring nightmare.

But this time it was different, because once his heart had steadied himself, he heard a sleepy groan coming from somewhere in the darkened room. For a split second, Seokjin panicked, thinking that someone had broken into his house, until memories from a few hours before flooded into his mind and he was reminded of the fact that he had new guests in his residence—five of them, actually.

And two of them were his own two brothers, Namjoon and Taehyung, both of which were lying down in the makeshift futons to his left, both fast asleep.

Or so he thought.

“Hyung?”

Seokjin stiffened. Beside him, Taehyung shifted where he lied beneath the covers, turning around so that he was lying on his back now as one eyelid peeled itself open before the other followed, and two sleepy eyes stared up at Seokjin’s, full of confusion.

“Hyung? What’s wrong?”

Seokjin blew out a warm breath. They’re here—his brothers were here, with him. Not out there, doing god-knows-what, but right here. Right next to him.

“Nothing, Tae,” Seokjin murmured as he lied back down on his own futon, groaning as he could feel his back bones protesting at the hard surface of his temporary bed. He was definitely going to buy a bed soon, if not this upcoming noon. Sure, ghouls were more resistant to physical injuries than humans were, but that didn’t mean he was numb to all pain. He didn’t complain in his head all that much this time, however—he was just relieved to have his brothers back with him.

“Nothing. Just go back to sleep, alright?”

He heard Taehyung humming in compliance before a soft _plop_ followed soon after, and waited until he heard his youngest brother’s snores before closing his own eyes again and allowed himself to fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Make sure to check out the [main story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443370)!


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